His Hands
by unicorn-skydancer08
Summary: A brief retelling of our Lord and Savior's earthly life, told my way. Based on the song of the same name by Kenneth Cope.


**HIS HANDS  
**

_This is probably the most powerful thing I have ever written. I was inspired by the song "His Hands" by Kenneth Cope, so I wove those lyrics into this story. I also consulted Bible passages, and I did my best to remain as faithful to the scriptures as possible while telling the story my own way. Towards the end, I also borrowed a few quotes from a recent talk given by President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, one of the leaders of the Latter-day Saint Church, of which I am a proud member. Even if you don't share the same beliefs as I do, I hope you'll enjoy reading this nevertheless._

_I forbid you to flame this piece. Any such comments will be immediately deleted, and ignored. Say and think what you want, but it won't make a difference. Insulting me will only be a big waste of your time and breath. I don't care what the world thinks. All that matters is what God thinks. I believe in Christ, I will always follow Him, and nothing you do or say will ever sway me. _

_I am not trying to make anyone look bad, or feel bad. All I'm doing is sharing what I believe in; whether you agree with me is your decision, not mine. Respect me, and I will respect you.  
_

* * *

**Lyrics © Kenneth Cope**

**Story ****© unicorn-skydancer08 (to some extent)  
**

**_All rights reserved._  
**

_

* * *

_

_His hands  
Tools of creation  
Stronger than nations  
Power without end  
And yet through them  
We find our truest friend_

* * *

A dreadful tempest was at hand. The small ship on which sailed Jesus and his apostles was barely a match for the sharp, blinding winds, the driving sheets of rain, and the waves that seemed as big as the mountains. Although the apostles were beside themselves with terror, Jesus lay calmly below deck, sleeping as peacefully as if he were in Eden's garden.

Presently, his apostles came to him and roused him, wailing, "Master! Master! Do you not care that we will die?"

But though their fear and alarm was rampant in their faces, as well as their voices, Jesus showed not even the slightest sign of fear. Without hesitation, he arose and stood on the edge of the heaving deck, lifting his right hand heavenward. "Peace," he spoke to the screeching wind and the lofty, foaming waves, "be still." And, there and then, before the other men's disbelieving eyes, the storm ceased. The winds died down until hardly a breeze stirred, the rain subsided until there was no longer a drop falling, and the sea dwindled to the smoothness of oil.

The apostles were surprised, stunned beyond worldly belief. They had seen many amazing things before in their time, but never until now had they beheld anything like this. No one on earth had such power since the days of Elijah, when fire was summoned from the heavens; or even the days of Moses, when the great Red Sea was divided in half, enabling the children of Israel to pass through on dry ground. But Jesus, a humble man from Nazareth…there was something more to him, so much more.

"What manner of man is this," the other men asked one another, "that even the winds and the seas obey him?"

* * *

_His hands  
Sermons of kindness  
Healing man's blindness  
Halting years of pain  
Children waiting to be held again_

* * *

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God."

"Master, who is the greatest, in the kingdom of heaven?" one of the disciples asked at one point.

Jesus called for a small child that stood nearby, and had the lad stand in the midst of them.

With his hands resting gently on the youth's shoulders, Jesus declared to his other followers, "I tell you this—unless you are converted, and become as little children, you shall not enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever shall humble himself as this little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever shall receive one such little child in my name receives me."

One day, a man who had been blind since the day of his birth approached Jesus and fell to his knees before him.

Stretching out his hands beseechingly, the poor man pleaded, "Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David."

"Do you believe that I am able to do this?" Jesus asked him, taking the man's hands in his own.

"Yes, Lord," the man never hesitated to say.

So Jesus placed one of his hands gently over the man's sightless eyes, and said, "Be it unto you, according to your faith." When he withdrew his hand a moment later, the man's eyes were open, for the first time in his life. When he looked up and beheld Jesus's face, his eyes flooded and spilled over with tears of joy and love.

"Oh, my Lord, my God…" he gasped.

"Go in peace, my son," Jesus said benevolently, as he helped him to his feet. "Your faith has made you whole."

Another day, while Jesus was in the middle of teaching, a group of children were brought before him, to be blessed by his hand.

The apostles tried to send the children away, thinking their master's time couldn't possibly be wasted on them. But Jesus said, "Suffer the little children to come to me, and do not forbid them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." So saying, he opened his arms to receive the children, and they eagerly rushed into his arms, not one of them holding back.

* * *

_His hands would serve His whole life through  
Showing man what hands might do  
Giving, ever giving, endlessly  
Each day was filled with selflessness  
And I'll not rest till I make of my hands  
What they could be  
Till these hands become  
Like those from Galilee_

* * *

While passing down one of the roads with his disciples, Jesus noticed an old, frail man hunkered down, trying to pick up some figs that were scattered on the ground, having fallen out of a basket the man had apparently dropped. Without even a second's hesitation, Jesus went straight to him and knelt to help him.

Once every last fig was off the ground and back in the basket (thankfully, aside from having a bit of dirt on them, they were undamaged), one of the disciples helped the old man to his feet while Jesus handled the basket. As a way of thanking Jesus for his assistance, the man offered one of the figs to him, free of charge, and Jesus accepted the little gift with a gracious smile.

* * *

_His hands__  
Warming a beggar  
__Lifting a leper  
Calling back the dead  
Breaking bread  
Five thousand fed_

* * *

"Oh, Master, Master—forgive me," wept the man groveling at Jesus's feet.

Jesus promptly knelt down himself, and carefully lifted the man's tear-streaked face to his.

"Be comforted, my son," he said tenderly, as he wiped the tears with his own thumbs. "Your sins are forgiven. Go, and sin no more."

With a strangled sob of gratitude, the man slumped against Jesus and embraced him fiercely, pressing his forehead to his Lord's breast. Jesus willingly returned the fervent embrace.

Shortly thereafter, Jesus and his apostles encountered another man, one who was badly inflicted with leprosy. Every bit of the man's body that was not concealed by his ragged clothes and filthy bandages was covered with hideous sores. The disease had even affected his very joints, causing them to bend and twist grotesquely. Notwithstanding the man's wretched condition, Jesus never hesitated to go to him. Sinking abjectly to the ground before Jesus, the leper entreated, "Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean."

Moved with compassion, Jesus said, "I will." Taking the leper by his distorted hand, he proclaimed, "Be thou clean."

At his word, the misshapen joints became whole again. The leprous flesh became smooth and perfect, and youth and beauty was restored to the man's face. When the man looked at his hands, when he touched his face, he caught his breath, and tears pooled in his eyes. "Oh, my Lord," he gasped, "my_ Lord_…I'm clean! _I am clean!_"

Later, in the house of Jairus, there was an atmosphere of great grief and mourning, for Jairus's only child, his daughter of twelve years, was dead. But even as the bereaved parents lamented their loss, Jesus approached the bed where the little girl lay, and quietly took her small white hand, whispering to her, "Young damsel, arise." Straightaway, the girl's eyes were opened, and she sat up, looking as though she had merely awoken from a long nap. Her overcome parents could only hug and kiss their precious child, while sobbing for pure joy.

At one point, the girl's eyes met with Jesus's. She knew in an instant who he truly was, and Jesus knew her.

One day, while Jesus was preaching on a mountainside, the time soon came to rest and eat. But there was nowhere near enough food to feed the whole crowd, which consisted of at least five thousand people. The only food the disciples could find were five barley loaves, and two measly fish. Jesus kindly asked the young boy, who was the owner of this little meal, "May I share your bread?" The boy nodded in acquiescence. So Jesus took the bread and blessed it, and proceeded to break it up into pieces.

He called his disciples forward, so that he could fill their baskets, which they would pass around to the multitude.

To everyone's utmost amazement, every basket was filled—and then filled again, then again, and again, and _again_.

No one else would have believed it possible, but there was enough food to feed every last mouth, with more than plenty to spare.

Later, in the synagogue of Capernaum, one man dared to question Jesus, "Rabbi, what must we do to fulfill the works God requires of us?"

"The work of God is this," Jesus answered, "to believe in the one He has sent."

"What miraculous sign will you give, then, that we may see it for ourselves and believe? What will you do? Our forefathers ate manna in the desert, as it is written."

"I tell you, it is not Moses who has given bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is He who comes and gives life to the world."

A clamor was beginning to rise. "Sir," another man spoke up from further back, "give us this bread! From here on, give it to us!"

Then Jesus declared, "_I_ am the bread of life. He who comes to me shall never be hungry, and he that believes in me shall never be thirsty."

* * *

_His hands  
Hushing contention  
Pointing to heaven  
Ever free of sin  
Then bidding men  
To follow Him_

* * *

"If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me."

As Jesus was walking along a road, a man came and said to him, "I will follow you, wherever you go."

Jesus replied, "Foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests. But the Son of Man has no place to lay his head."

Later, he bade another man follow him. But the man said, "First let me go, and bury my father."

"Let the dead bury their own dead," Jesus answered, "but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God."

Another man said, "I will follow you, Lord, but first let me go back and bid my family farewell."

Jesus told him, "No man who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service, in the kingdom of God."

* * *

_His hands would serve His whole life through  
Showing man what hands might do  
Giving, ever giving, endlessly  
Each day was filled with selflessness  
And I'll not rest till I make of my hands  
What they could be  
Till these hands become  
Like those from Galilee_

* * *

"Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

"Lord," spoke up Thomas, one of Jesus's chief apostles, "how can we know the way?"

To which Jesus replied, "I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father, except through me."

Then Philip, another apostle, said, "Lord, show us the Father, and that will be enough for us."

"Don't you know me, Philip, even after all this time I have been with you? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father."

* * *

_His hands  
Clasped in agony  
As He lay pleading  
Bleeding in the garden  
While just moments away  
Other hands betray Him  
Out of greed  
Shameful greed_

* * *

The night was cold and dark. A solemn moon was the only source of light in the garden, known as the Garden of Gethsemane, located at the foot of the Mount of Olives. While the apostles slept, for they were weary and their eyelids were heavy, Jesus remained a short distance from them, by himself. On his knees, alone in the dark, the Lamb of God bowed himself over the edge of a massive stone, his hands clasped so tightly in front of him that every bone showed plainly through the skin. Tears broke forth and flooded freely down his face. His breathing grew harsh and ragged as his entire frame shook. In a voice that was scarcely audible, he implored, "Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me."

Lowering his head even further, his shoulders bent as though under some tremendous weight, he whispered, "Nevertheless…not my will, but thine be done."

As his pain and anguish continued to increase, as his soul-wrenching sobs pervaded the air, blood began to seep through the pores in his skin, and fall as steadily to the ground as rain.

Not so much later, just after Jesus had returned to his apostles and rallied them, a mass of marching footsteps sounded in the not so far distance. The red glow of torches broke through the dismal blackness of the night. Presently, a horde of men arrived in that very garden, led by Judas Iscariot—one of Jesus's own followers, and most beloved friends. While the rest of the men held back, Judas slowly approached his Master, opening his arms as if to receive him. "Master," he said in an affectionate whisper, and he leaned in and kissed him.

At this sign, the other men knew immediately Jesus was the very man they were looking for.

Thus, they were upon Jesus like bloodthirsty wolves upon a helpless sheep. They seized Jesus, bound him with unfriendly cords so he could not get away, and hauled him away like an animal.

Yet Jesus made no struggle, no effort whatsoever to save himself.

He knew what would be done would be done…and he was ready.

* * *

_And then His hands  
Are trembling  
Straining to carry  
The beam that they'd be nailed to  
As He stumbles through the streets  
Heading for the hill  
On which He'd die  
He would die_

* * *

"Do you mean to tell me that you are some sort of king?" demanded Pontius Pilate, the lord procurator of Rome.

With his head held high, speaking with quiet dignity, Jesus answered, "To this end was I born. For this cause came I into the world."

Pilate narrowed his cold, steely eyes at his prisoner, but the prisoner did not turn his head, or make even the slightest flinch. Presently, Pilate summoned for a servant to bring him a clean towel and a basin of fresh water. When the servant brought forth these things, Pilate plunged his hands into the water on the spot, and washed them thoroughly.

As he dried his hands on the towel, the procurator centered his gaze upon Jesus one last time, swearing, "My hands are clean of the blood of this man."

Pandemonium filled the streets, as the condemned prisoner struggled with the massive wooden beam that rested upon his shoulders. Men shouted cruel insults at Jesus as he stumbled past them and spat contemptuously into his face, while women shed bitter tears, beseeching the Roman soldiers to have mercy on Jesus.

Though Jesus did his best, the heaviness of the beam and his own fatigue proved to be too much. After forcing himself to take a few more steps, he could go no further and dropped to the ground, right there and then. The soldiers that escorted him ordered him to get up, emphasizing their commands with harsh blows. But Jesus simply didn't have the strength left to go on. Thus, the soldiers were compelled to get another man from the flanking crowds to come help Jesus bear his burden.

The man was obliged to obey, lest he be punished himself.

"What was your crime, man?" he grunted to Jesus as they hefted the beam together.

"I healed the sick," Jesus answered softly. "I strengthened the weary…comforted the lonely…and taught the truth."

The man was surprised; he had never heard of anyone being executed for doing good. But the soldiers forced them onward, thus there was no time for further questions, let alone further talk.

* * *

_They take His hands  
His mighty hands  
Those gentle hands  
And then they pierce them  
They pierce them  
He lets them  
Because of love_

* * *

On the hill Calvary, shrieks and howls of pure torment ripped through the air as the two men who were being crucified along with Jesus were nailed to their crosses. The soldiers drove cruel spikes through the men's bare flesh and bone, straight through to the wood, so that they would remain firmly in place when the cross was propped up.

Jesus, already worn out from the long, fateful march to the hill and the numerous beatings he had received beforehand, silently allowed himself to be laid flat on the cross, barely noticing the roughness of the wood against his brutally flayed back. The soldiers jeered at him and spoke lewdly to his face as they took his hands, the hands that performed countless miracles that the men couldn't even begin to fathom, and the spikes were pounded into place. Some of the soldiers said nothing, and looked upon Jesus with genuine sympathy in their rugged faces.

Jesus did not cry out or curse his oppressors, though he caught his breath when he felt the shock of the barbs impaling him, like a spear impaling a fish.

Despite the agony, despite the cruelty of the soldiers and the crowds who had gathered on the hill to witness his death for themselves, Jesus lifted his face—feverish and creased with pain, soaked with blood, sweat, and tears—to heaven and managed to bring himself to say, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

When he bowed his head for the last time, and yielded his spirit, thick, dark clouds eclipsed the sky. A blinding lash of lightning flared, followed by a terrible explosion of thunder that shook the very earth underfoot. Amid the screeching squalls of wind, the clouds gave release to a torrent of rain that came down cold as ice and sharp as a thousand needles. While most of the crowd scrambled frantically for shelter, the centurion in charge of the crucifixion stood still, lifting his face to that of his noble victim on the cross, scarcely noticing the icy sting of the rain and wind.

"Truly," the soldier murmured, speaking with his heart as well as his lips, "this man was the Son of God."

* * *

_From birth to death was selflessness  
And clearly now  
I see Him with His hands  
Calling to me  
And though I'm not yet as I would be  
He has shown me how I could be  
I will make my hands  
Like those from Galilee_

* * *

"Whoever tries to save his life will lose it. Whoever willingly gives his life shall live forever. What good will it profit a man to gain the whole world, and yet lose or forfeit his very self? If anyone is ashamed of me, and my words, the Son of Man will be ashamed of him when he comes in his glory, and in the glory of the Father and the holy angels."

Just as the Father has loved Jesus, so too does Jesus love us, and likewise we must love one another.

Today's world is not so different from that of Jesus's earthly time. Like wandering sheep, we have gone off course, and we become lost in the dark. We try to make it through our own merits; we rely too much on our own strength, on the cleverness of our own minds. Yet without Jesus, without his atoning sacrifice, we are lost forever. Jesus is merciful and tenderhearted, and is always willing to help us, but we must be willing to reach out and accept his help. He will not abandon us, but we must not abandon him.

Though we are imperfect, Jesus loves us perfectly. Though we are incomplete, he loves us completely.

If we will obey his commandments, and do as he would do, we will remain in his love forever, and our joy shall be complete.


End file.
